


The Hellion War

by Aeternus_Flamma



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 11:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2022864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeternus_Flamma/pseuds/Aeternus_Flamma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a short summary I wrote to go along with a murder mystery. This gives a brief history on the war that started Centennial Summit meetings of Supernatural Creatures. The characters are all of my own EXCEPT-- Nicnevin and Nephemael. Their names are pulled from the Holly Black book "Tithe," but they are my own original personalities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hellion War

The Hellion War

000

 

“We have to move.” A young woman ran down the rocky path, abandoning her vantage point of the battle below. She halted next to her companion and knelt down to help him up, throwing his arm around her neck. “They’re heading this way. We have to be gone by the time they round here.”

            The blonde male grunted and accepted her help in standing, allowing her to start leading the way through the mountain pass.

            The pair had been on the run for almost two years. Both had been exiled from their respective societies and had been hunted even before the Hellion War had started. Now that sides had been formed, with the pair stuck with everyone as enemies, the Slayer and Were Panther had no one to rely on but themselves.

            They had only made it a few hundred yards before the male stopped, lifting his nose to the wind. “Edan, wait,” he said, appearing to sniff the air, “there’s someone here.”

            As if on cue, a shape dropped down from the rocks above them, landing in a crouch. The woman hurried to step forward, drawing her blade. The creature in front of her was Fey, judging by his bright eyes and lanky form. Her shoulders tensed in anticipation—where there was one Feyling, there were always at least one or two others.

            “Max, I will handle this, do _not_ transform. Your body can’t handle it.” Edan lunged at the Fey, who dodged her first blow, and then her second. He seemed to intentionally stay just barely out of reach, instead of putting distance between them. She continued to strike, sometimes grazing him just barely. It was not long before she was out of the Were Panther’s sight line.

            Once he was blocked by a few large rocks jutting upwards through the Earth, three more Feylings appeared seemingly out of nowhere, diving on the already injured man. He growled and struggled against them, managing to throw one of them down to the ground. With the wound on his side, he couldn’t strain himself any more without ripping the makeshift bandages open.

            “Look what we’ve caught,” said the shortest of the creatures, likely of Pixie origins, “a nice little kitty cat… Let’s skin him and use him for a rug!”

            “That only works if he changes first,” said the one who had hit the ground, wiping a bit a blood away from his cheek. “The Queen will surely be happy to add him to her collection.”

            Though Maximus would have preferred to have done everything possible to keep from changing, a cry from Edan and sudden eruption of flames some distance beyond the rocks alerted him to her danger. He had no choice but to transform, albeit painfully.

            With a growl, he tossed one of his other two attackers away and then seemed to roar to life, struggling much more furiously. He tossed off his tattered jacket and tossed it to the ground just before his bones started cracking. It wasn’t long until his skin started to crack away, leaving large, muscular, furred limbs in its place.

            The Fey immediately summoned forth Fey-Fire, deciding that it wasn’t worth preserving the massive beasts pelt. However, it had no effect. Edan had long since made him invulnerable to the flame by giving him her family seal, which he wore on a long chain that hung around his neck. He lunged and tore into the Pixie, throwing it around like it was nothing more than a piece of meat.

            The two others managed to jump onto his back and stick him with needle like daggers. The worst of the damage came from his existing wound—one of the Fey did not hesitate to dig his nimble fingers into the wound and rip the flesh apart. Maximus let out a pained yow and threw himself to the ground, crushing that particular creature.

            By the time the other Fey had a chance to raise his dagger to try to plunge it into Maximus’s neck, Edan had already returned, blood covering her left arm. It wasn’t her blood, judging by how quickly she raised it and threw it forward, shooting flames forward from her palm. The Fey fell backwards with a scream, and she was on it in moments, plunging her sword into his chest.

            “I told you _not_ to transform,” she sighed, trying to suppress her frustration. “You should have just called for me, I would have come right back.”

            The Were Panther let out a low whine, seeming to agree that it had been a bad idea. He remained on the ground, keeping the crushed Fey beneath him. Edan decapitated it, just for good measure.

            “You really _won’t_ survive another change. Find a place to hide. I’m getting you help.”

000

            The sun was just starting to set, covering the sky in red to match the blood covered battlefield. Zander Silverfang removed his helmet and wiped the sweat and blood from his brow. Most of his men had succumbed to the beat and transformed by this point. While it did help in increasing their sheer strength, it took more than that to defeat the Fey-Demon army. It took strategy and maneuvering, which Werewolves were not keen on doing once the beast took over.

            “Damn it,” he growled, feeling yet another pulse of darkness ripple across the field. The Hellmouth was opening once more. His enemy was repopulating. Not only that, but the dark energy made it hard to detect the demons until they were already upon them—scent was useless with so much blood filling the air. “Get into position! Hold the line!”

            His men repositioned themselves, blocking their camp from attack. Too many of their men were injured and their healers couldn’t keep up with the numbers. Not only that, but so many of his men lay ahead of him, alive but injured. They couldn’t get to them fast enough before they were overwhelmed by lurking demons.

            Silverfang felt the hair on the back of his neck stand as there was an uneasy breeze. He thought for a moment that the Fey had somehow managed to open a gateway behind his lines, but that was not the case. It was something else—something that caused his men to start angrily snarling, not out of fear, but out of disgust.

            He whipped around when he heard a woman’s voice start barking out orders. He had no women in his camp.

            “We have _five minutes_ until their numbers double. Move in sets of three, pull the wounded back, and take out the enemies who would hope to overtake you. They won’t be expecting us, so use that to your advantage.”

            A proud looking woman in armor with her hair tied tightly back spoke. At first, he thought she was trying to direct his men. In fast blurs, more and more soldiers poured out of the tree line, ignoring the werewolves and looking down the hillside for their targets.

            “Vampires,” Silverfang spat, though he was more confused than anything else.

            The young werewolf general watched as his men turned their backs on the battlefield and took defensive stances. He then locked eyes with the woman. They stared each other down until she chose to walk to him. She could have moved with her superhuman speed, but she seemed to choose to let him watch her carefully.

            “I am Trinity Orestes Valentinian, I lead the Western troops,” she said evenly, paying no mind to the men who started to transform, taking her actions as a threat. “You and your men have done well to hold off the enemy all day. Allow us to help, this night.”

            Silverfang looked over the woman’s shoulder to her line of men—all looking healthy and strong, compared to his injured and half-crazed men. It pained him to accept help from a _vampire_ , but it would have pained him more to see all of his men dead. “You can save our wounded?”

            The woman curly nodded. “I can.”

            It took only a moment before Silverfang turned to his men, arms spread. “Make room! Give them space to clear the line! Hold the defense for any of the enemy who thinks to cross over!”

            “But _they_ are the enemy!” A nearby soldier practically choked in his disgust, already half changed into his beast form.

            “Not this night,” Silverfang boomed, immediately silencing any opposition, before adding almost half whispered--, “not this War.”

            By the time the night had ended and the vampire scores had retreated into hiding, not a single Hellion or Feyling remained. Not only was the Hellmouth completely sealed, but two ranking Demon Knights had been lured out and slaughtered. The battle would be marked as one of the most memorable of victories for the Earthwalkers, and neither vampire nor werecreature could take full credit.

            000

            “And what is _this_? A consolation prize?” The towering, ethereal Fey Queen took the object she had been given and threw it with all of her might against the ancient, carved wood walls of her castle. “ _Forgive me_ , if I don’t seem grateful.”

            The Hellion Emissary, Herot, winced as the prized item hit the wall and clanked to the floor, but remained intact. He sighed and picked at the silk ruffles around his wrists, suppressing any sign of his annoyance. “The War is ending. The King has grown bored. He has moved on to… different endeavors. It will not be long before he closes the Hellmouths himself before the Earthwalkers have the chance to permanently seal off any more.”

            Nicnevin stared down at the demon in disbelief. Her rage was barely contained as was evident by the magical energy that started to surround her and ruffle the many layers of her elegant dress. “He _swore_ to me that those magic thieves would be suitably dealt with—“

            “— _IF_ he won,” Herot pointed out with a shrug. “The King is withdrawing from the War—“

            “—he is surrendering!”

            Herot scowled and rolled his eyes. “ _No_ , he is _withdrawing._ He would actually have to care about the outcome for it to be considered surrender. There will be no white flag, nothing for him to concede. He has every right to close the Hellmouths as abruptly as he opened them. I am here as a courtesy, he would prefer I simply left you to the War on your own. I, however, believe in some semblance of honor which is why I brought you such a gracious gift before ending our alliance.”

            The woman eyed the orb that she had thrown; watching as the mist within swirled about, occasionally changing its color. “What does it do?”

            With a pearly white smile, Herot extended his arms wide. “So glad you asked…”

000

            It was ultimately a beautifully bright and sunny day when the Slayer warriors found themselves on the battlefield yet again. Throughout the night, it had rained, making it difficult for the Flame Wielders to plan adequately for battle. However, despite all likelihood, the clouds were swept aside to bring morning’s light.

            Everyone, from Slayer to Fey to Hellion alike, knew it was because of the creature that soared overhead. An enormous golden bird circled the battlefield, occasionally dropping down to pick up a Hellion in its beak and let it drop from a few stories up.

            In the front lines, a young Slayer called Antoni pulled back his sword and sliced the air in front of him, sending a trail of flames at the enemies in front of him. Once they were suitably lit, he brought his left hand forward and thrust it up, willing the flames to engulf the beings. Even if they had hoped to combat the magically summoned fire, they were burned to a crisp within moments.

            This was exactly why their enemy had hoped to attack on a suitable miserable day.

By the time the battle had ended, their ranks were fuller than they had expected. Their enemy had outranked them almost two to one, but with a mix of skill and some good fortune, the Slayers were victorious.

They wasted no time in celebrating. More and more Hellmouths were being permanently shut, and the War seemed to be drawing to an end.

While some of the men and women danced around the large bon fire, others impressed each other with their skills in flame manipulation—creating animate animals that trotted around, leaving soot in their wake. Occasionally an envious water wielder would use their own canteens to send out a wave to dissipate the fiery beasts. Earth wielders ignored the childish feuds and put their efforts to good use, creating tables and chairs from the wood to accommodate their fellow warriors, as well as creating new arrows to restock their supplies. There were few wind manipulators about, since most had already set off as messengers back to the main city.

            “You were quite impressive, Antoni,” a voice said to the young Slayer, causing him to startle from his thoughts. He turned around from his spot away from the others to see a woman wrapped in white emerging from the tree line.

            “Phoenix,” he breathed and jumped up, bowing to the woman slightly. “I hardly think I did anything impressive, I did what had to be done to win—and survive.”

            The woman seemed to glow against the darkness, pulsing with light energy. Her garb was odd to the Slayer, it reminded him of an era long since past. Most extraordinary was the ornate neckpiece she wore. “Your strength and control of the flame is admirable. You are by far one of the most adept Slayers of your time. I know of only one other with your power, though I have not seen her on any battlefields… Well, it does not matter. Tell me, what do you plan to do, now that the War is ending?”

            The pair spoke for some time, watching as the other warriors drank further into their merriment. Antoni proved to be very ambitious, with dreams of bringing about peace with the other supernatural creatures of the realm, beyond just the demons and the Fey.

            It was in the early hours of the morning that their conversation came to a halt. The woman stared off in the distance, though focusing on nothing in particular.

            “Something approaches,” she said and in a moment she was gone, a small burst of flames temporarily left in her wake.

            Antoni quickly got to his feet, drawing his blade from his side. He looked around for any anomaly, but found nothing besides his mostly drunken comrades. By the time he circled the camp, he believed he found whatever it was the Phoenix had sensed.

            A tall, lanky creature slipped from the forest. It seemed to make no effort to cloak itself, instead, walking straight across Antoni’s sightline As it neared the light, the Slayer could tell that was certainly a Feyling, and it carried an orb reeking of dark, Hellion energy.

            It caught the attention of a few more Slayers before it stopped. “The Fey Queen congratulates you on your victory,” it said, its voice even an unnerving. The Earth wielders didn’t even have time to send off one of their arrows before it placed its hands on either side of the glowing or and squeezed, crushing it.

            The burst of energy was powerful. The Slayers, and the Fey creature for that matter, were thrown back, hitting the ground and whatever else lay around them with painful thuds. A nearby wooden table burst, sending sharp shards flying in all directions. It wasn’t the burst which was the worst of the attack however, not even considering the piece of wood lodged in Antoni’s eye socket; it was whatever was released from the orb itself.

            The dark mist swirled out in chaos, with sounds of angry escaping the orb with it. Instead of dissipating, it moved into streams and tendrils, heading directly for the closest of Slayers. Though they tried to run, the mist went straight for their throats, flowing into their bodies.

            Their veins turned black as they choked and spasm. Those who were standing fell to their knees, and those who were already down writhed against the dirt. Antoni managed to crawl, and then to stand, holding a hand to his injured and blinded eye. He could hear the screams of pain behind him as he staggered to the tree line, hoping for an escape.

            This wasn’t a battle, after all, this was a slaughter.

            When it seemed he was in the clear, away from the possessed, venomous smoke, the undergrowth started to shake. Shadowy forms came up from the ground but Antoni couldn’t seem to focus on them in his disoriented state. He didn’t see the clawed hand shoot forward and impale him through the chest.

            The young Slayer let out a cough and spat out blood. The clawed hand pulled back, and he collapsed. All he could feel was the pain for a bit but it eventually numbed and he could feel nothing at all. The screams of his comrades faded out, and all he knew was blackness.

            It took a while for her to find him, but the Phoenix eventually searched Antoni out. Her body was scratched and bloody from the skirmish she had been in with a horde of demons. She was too late to stop the attack on the Slayers by the time she had finished off her fight.

            “Oh Antoni,” she sighed, dropping to her knees next to the corpse. “I shouldn’t have left you, it was foolish of me.”

            Death was not unknown to her. She was a being of light and birth, and as such, knew darkness and death well. She sat for a few moments, stroking the fallen Slayer’s bloody and matted hair before she felt a single set of tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. She was thoroughly shocked—she hadn’t cried in _years._

            Taking it as a sign, she shifted and bent down near the fatal wound, and let her tears fall into the hideous hole.

            The Phoenix had every intention of staying to see the result of her magic, but it seemed Balance had other things in store for her as an invisible hand ripped her from her spot, moving her through time and space to another part of the world.

            When Antoni _awoke_ , he was alone and in pain. He had an awful wound on his stomach that looked as though it could have been much worse. He was sure he had remembered the demon gutting him, but that apparently wasn’t the case. Unfortunately, his eye was not as lucky. He lost that for good, along with every single member of his platoon.

000

            “You’re quite sure? The Feylings have retreated? All of them?”

            “Yes, Lady Trinity, all reports claim the same thing—the Fey are returning to their world, and sealing their gateways behind them. It seems to be the same with the Hellions. Their Hellmouths are slowly closing, though not permanently. The war is ending.” Three vampire soldiers knelt before their leader, who stood unarmored in the moonlight.

            Trinity and Zander Silverfang had continued their unlikely alliance for a few more days after their initial encounter, with the Werewolves fighting at day and the vampires at night. They were a formidable team, slaughtering anyone who stood in their way.

            There was a small commotion from somewhere behind the kneeling soldiers as some of the camp guards rushed forward, dragging a bloodied and beaten body with them. “My lady! We found this creature lurking around the edges of camp. She appears to be a _Slayer_.”

            The vampire leader looked at the bloodied and beaten girl in disgust. “She hardly looks like a Slayer—she barely looks like she can put up a fight!” Trinity had just finished her sentence when the chair behind her burst into flames. She glanced back before turning to the captured woman with interest. “Alright, you have my attention.”

            The guards released the Slayer, who dropped to the ground. “My name… is Elisa Edan. I come to you… for help.”

            Trinity raised a brow and crossed her arms. The woman in front of her was too weak to fight physically, but the small inferno at Trinity’s back proved that the woman was capable of lighting at least a few of Trinity’s men on fire.

            “And what is it that a _Slayer_ would want from me?”

            “You have healers… I have someone in dire need of healing,” Edan replied, looking up at the vampire.

            “There is a nearby Werewolf camp, why would you not go to them? They have healers, and they are more likely to accept your kind. Why should I not kill you now? The War is ending. Any treaties with your kind are coming to an end.” Trinity waited for a new chair to be brought to her before she sat down, resting her chin on her hand haphazardly.

            The Slayer looked wary of answering, but she did after one of the vampire guards kicked her in the side. “I am an exile—and my friend is too. He’s… he’s a Werepanther. The others will kill him upon sight. I thought, at least, you would grant me audience first.”

            “You thought well, then,” Trinity replied. “So, you need me and you need my resources. What do I get in return?”

            “Anything. Anything I can give you. I don’t know what I can give, but name it, and I will try.”  Edan was practically on her knees begging—groveling.

            Trinity sat up, tapping her finger to her lip. “Anything? Even your life?”

            The Slayer did not miss a beat, “yes.”

            “Fine then. Men, summon Crowley. We will bind you into my service, Slayer. You will no longer be an exile, you will be _mine_. You will surrender your will and you will do my bidding. In return, I will make sure your Werepanther _companion_ is taken care of. You agree to my terms?”

            “Yes.”

000

            “It’s done, Sir,” Herot said with a slight bow as he stopped at the foot of the Demon King’s raised platform. “The Fey Queen has been informed of our withdrawal from battle. She was… displeased, to say the least.”

            The great Demon King sat haphazardly at his impressive throne, one leg swung over the arm. His head rested on one of his hand while he swirled a goblet around with his other. He barely blinked as his most trusted Hellion companion entered. Finally, he released a sigh. “You’re too soft, Herot, why did I let you convince me _not_ to kill her? She was such a bother…”

            “She could be useful in the future. She has access to realms that we do not,” the Hellion Emissary responded through clenched jaws. Was he truly the only one in their entire dark domain that had any ambition?

            A discontent silence settled in the enormous hall while Herot waited to be dismissed. The Demon King did nothing more than stare at him for a few long minutes. The Demon King then suddenly jumped up and walked to the side of his throne.

            “You will need to find me a new plaything,” the King said lightly.

            “What? What happened to the last one? I just brought her before I left…”

            The Demon King kicked something behind the throne. That something then let out a chocked sob, causing Herot to roll his eyes. The King shrugged, “she was boring me.”

            Suppressing an irritated groan, Herot put his fingers to the bridge of his nose and pinched, shaking his head. Giving himself a moment to push down the aggravation he felt, Herot straightened up.

            “I understand, sir, I will be sure to send another Earth Walker down, right away.” He bowed and took that as enough reason to dismiss himself. With another bow, he turned on his heel and exited the room, mumbling to himself.

            000

            The great Phoenix barely managed to hold the remnants of her clothes to her chest to keep herself covered. She shook violently, but she no longer cried out in pain. Her now mortal body was in shock from essentially losing a limb.

            It was the even greater being of Balance who stood before her, holding the bloody, jeweled neckpiece in her hands.

            “If you had not resisted,” the Anka, the Phoenix’s ‘sister’ said softly, “it would not have been so painful. I hardly felt it. If you had released your Wings on your own, the Madame Libra would not have had to take them by force.”

            The words were not comforting, and they only made the Phoenix sob harder. “I’ve—I’ve lost part of me! What made me—me!” The vicious gashes in her back continued to bleed, and the Madame Libra, the powerful being known as _the Ancient_ , offered her no assistance.

            Madame Libra showed no signs of sympathy or compassion as she waved a hand, summoning up her servant. In a quick burst of flames, a man appeared and gave a low, over dramatic bow. “You called, _my lady_?” To some, he may have sounded genuine. They would have missed the sneer he gave while his head was bowed.

            “Casmaron, place this in one of the vaults. Perhaps once the Phoenix learns not to abuse the powers of Balance, I will return it. Until that time, the Phoenix’s Wings will remain here with me, as will the Anka’s as consequence.

            The Djinn looked at the broken woman on the floor as he took the gold piece. He shrugged and _‘hmphed,’_ but followed his orders nonetheless. He disappeared in a burst of flames once more. If his apathetic nature hadn’t gotten in the way, he may have sympathized with the Bird, since he too was rendered almost powerless by the Ancient.

            “From this point forward, you two will live your lives as mortals. Though you will not age, you will only have a fraction of your power, and you will not be able to change into your true forms. You will face the same struggles as those chose to side with, when Balance forbade you act without rendered payment,” stated the Ancient. He gave her hands one shake, and the blood that had covered them instantly disappeared.

            She gracefully stepped back and sat in her old, carved, wooden chair. “I worry about this plane of existence. I have watched, and I have seen what you are all capable of doing. It is possible that another war would tear this plane to shreds, to a point beyond repair. You should know what that would mean—you would cease to exist. It is as such that I have deemed it necessary to hold periodic meetings with those of power. In one Earth-month’s time, we will have a Summit to ensure peace amongst the creatures. We shall have one Summit every one hundred years after that, with more made necessary if the societies cannot maintain their worldwide peace. Those who do not comply with this decree will face severe punishment. I have the power to send any creature through the planes to face the justice of my people, and I assure you, it is a terror beyond your greatest nightmare.”

            The Ancient surveyed the two women before her before she continued. “Since you two are children of Balance, I cannot force you to attend the Summits, though I would encourage it if you ever want your Wings returned to you. Until then, go, live your lives. Perhaps you will find something of value while living as mortals.” She waved her hand, and the two known as the _‘Birds’_ disappeared, sent to different sides of the world.

            The Djinn Casmaron appeared beside her once more. “ _That_ was certainly a pathetic sight.”

            “You would do best not to forget it—there are still parts of _you_ that I could very easily tear from your body.”

            Casmaron paled, making the red markings along his face even more visible, and gulped down any snide comments he would have liked to have added.

            “Start locating all of the leaders of the supernatural communities on this plane,” the Ancient said and shut her eyes, resting her head against the back of the chair. “You will have letters to deliver by the end of this moon cycle.”

            “Of course, my lady,” Casmaron replied. This time, he did not disappear into flames, but he walked away.

            The Hellion War had finally ended, after years of bloodshed and battle. The creatures of the Earth-plane were luckier than they knew. If even one more day had passed…

           000

 

            Well, regardless. It was because of a combination of things that the Centennial Summit was created. Representatives from all of the creature races would gather and update treaties and agreements based upon the evolution of the world. The rapid progression of humans had caused the need for most of the agreements, since it became harder and harder for the creatures to remain hidden without the help of one another.

            Boundaries and land territories were created, with certain jobs and embassy’s added in to help ensure peace. For two hundred years, the plan had worked near perfectly. However, when the woman known as the Vampire Queen—Trinity Orestes Valentinian—seized sole power over the entire Vampire Court and removed all but the Were Ambassador from her territory, tensions soared. It seemed as if her move to take even more power for herself was eminent. As such, going into this Centennial Summit, it seems that _everyone_ has an opinion on the best course of action.

Can peace be achieved? Or has everyone simply been biding their time until a new war breaks out?


End file.
